Dire Wolves
by Empyrion Ravane
Summary: The candle of an age-old blood-feud has been rekindled. The Kindred Souls are searching for the key to bringing their BloodLord back to life and only one group stands in their way: the Dire Wolves!


Ya know, I could've started this whole thing with something crappy like "It was a night unlike any other", but I'm not some simple twit trying for what's already been done. Trust me, you try throwing that line at me and see how far you get thrown. Literally. Oh, sorry; this was me trying to tell a story, not turn it into a bitch-fest... and there I go again! See how lucky you are?

So anyways, I'm standing across the street from a well-known vamp dive with the weight of the freakin' world on my broad shoulders. If you wish to know why, I'll be happy to tell you.

I'm a happy-go-lucky kinda guy and whenever I'm hyper, I always end up having a lot of fun, but by the same token, if I'm hyper just walk away slowly. Never run. That's the worst thing you could do. But I'm a nice guy. Or at least nice enough. I've survived many years without ever having to kill anything aside from hunting for food. Now my Master has ordered me to kill— not just beat down— but kill. I'd been content with brow-beating the hell out of people to get my information out of my snitches. What use were they to me if they were well and truly dead? It would be pointless! However, I'd come across some intel that I had to report. Rumor has it that a certain kiss was looking for some kind of ancient artifacts that would help them resurrect their old BloodLord, Omega. The name alone was enough to send chills through my fur and there was no way I was gonna let Damarchus, my Alpha, get caught unawares. He and Omega had a blood-feud, and when I say feud, I'm talking the-world's-gonna-fuckin'-end feud. It's way worse than some trite sibling rivalry, that's for sure. I've asked what their beef was about, but Damarchus wasn't telling. That and he also beat the snot out of me when he caught me snooping. I'm curious, damn it, and when I smell a story, I'm gonna go for it. Now I've just upped the ante on my snooping and stealth. D-Man's just gonna have to deal with it, or at least learn how to. But I'm not telling him_ that_ to his face! I'm dense, not stupid.

Yet, here I was, still stuck with my own version of a moral dilemma. I now had to hunt with the full knowledge that I was about to end someone's life. Okay, so what if I was hunting things that were technically already dead, pronounced "undead"; they still walked, they kinda breathed, and –honestly I don't think I can include drinking blood as eating, but who am I to quibble?

I moved from the shadows of my perch with a heavy sigh, nostrils flared, looking for any and all kinds of scents that shouldn't belong. If there was something underhanded happening, it would give me all the reason to off a vamp without much moral complication. If they were stupid enough to draw that kind of attention to themselves, I suppose I could just help them end their life-cycle a little bit faster. It's the only neighborly thing to do. A wolf's gotta live by some kind of code, ya know? Now I was just wondering why I had to meet the Squealy Dan in this dump. We always met around here, never inside. Others had brought me here and learned not to make a repeat venture of it. I _hated_ having to set foot inside _The Monastery_. It always smelled of old bodies, and some of them didn't bother to bathe regularly, if at all. Just because you rose from the earth doesn't mean you need to waltz about smelling like maggot-bait!

The bouncer frowned once he saw me coming towards the front door of the gothic joint. I did always find it rather ironic that not only was _The Monastery_ a vamp hidey-hole, but it was a really moody one at that. Looks like someone aside from me had a wicked sense of humor, but this one was kinda wasted on me. Yeah, I know, too cliché. But at least I didn't build this dump of a hell. I just have to case it from time to time.

"You're not welcome here, wolf," the bouncer said with a scowl fierce enough to make his face fall off and a voice so painfully deep that I swear I thought I had gravel in my ears. And I wasn't even in my fur yet.

"Ya know, I'm still waiting for you to come up with something new and original," I replied with mock sincerity. "You just aren't that prim and proper to use lines like that. Maybe you should go with something like 'piss off' instead, so I can finish helping you with your award-winning smile!" He hissed and bared his upper canine. Like I said, I was helping him with his smile. In other words, last time he tried to keep me from tracking my quarry, I wound up knocking out a canine when I hit him. I could always do it again, but I just wasn't feeling it right now. He didn't need to know that, though. "So you gonna let me in so I can get this over with and go home already, or am I gonna have to send you to the dentist for a full set of teeth this time?"

"Fuck off, fleabag!" he growled, and was rewarded with a smile from me.

It wasn't a pretty one, either.

"Now that wasn't so hard, now, was it?" I asked. "You do learn. But obviously not well enough!"

From looks alone, you'd actually think that this vamp and I were about the same age. I, on the other hand, knew that I had over eighty years on the chump. Too bad, so sad. What he also didn't realize was that though he was naturally fast, I was way faster. He found that out quick, fast and in a hurry when I grabbed him by the ear and rammed his face through the other side of his little podium and started bouncing his head off the ground like a ball. I heard his teeth break after a couple of good whacks and simply threw the bastard out into the middle of the street. It was not my fault that a car was driving by, minding their own business and all. They couldn't blame me because the stupid vamp had an insane need to play Frogger. Hell, while the poor human was busy jumping out of the car and freaking out, I was already through the doors and headed deep into Maggotville Central.

Have I mentioned how much I hate this place?

* * * *

There was at least one good thing about this spot: the music. Sometimes it was techno, sometimes it was death metal, or maybe even grunge. But tonight was pure, unadulterated metal. What more could I have ever asked for? If I was gonna come into a place to kick some serious ass, the least they could do is set the right ambience so that it's conducive to what I was after. That human DJ was good. Maybe that's why the vamps hadn't bled him. It also made me wonder if he was a vamp junkie or if someone glamoured the poor sap into thinking he was doing this for a group of wannabe's. It really wasn't my problem at the moment.

I moved through the gyrating masses of undead bodies and went to the bar, taking very shallow breaths as I went. Like I said, these vamps stank to high hell. I seriously doubted that even using a whole freaking industrial-sized jug of Simple Green could take care of the scent in here, and that's saying something! Although it did help that the DJ was burning some Nag Champa though. Made me think more of him for it.

"What'll it be, buddy?" the barkeep asked as he wiped a bit of blood from his hands.

"Bourbon and coke; heavy on the bourbon. Oh, and in one of those lovely pint glasses I know you guys have back there for special occasions."

The guy had to be a newb vamp. _Had_ to be. The look on his face as he was trying to find the liquor was funny as hell. Any vamp that had ever been in the joint knew the bar only served blood. That was it. Then again, the vamps also knew I put their last bartender in a recovery tank for laughing in my face and had the nerve to tell me to get lost. He also called me a sack-licker. I'd even asked him to take it back calmly and the fuck-tard spat in my face, so I nearly ripped his off. After all that, you'd think somebody'd actually spring for a damn bottle of bourbon just to make me happy. Was that so fucking hard? Was it too much to ask for? NO!

The new guy returned to me once he put two and two together. "Sorry, sir. I think all we've got is blood. Hey, you're not a vampire. What're you doing in here?"

I snorted with disgust and waved it off. "Your bouncer figured it was a good time for a well-deserved vacation so I let myself in," I told him and let my eyes glow a bright shade of golden amber before they returned to the usual cold brown. "Forget the drink. I heard an old buddy of mine has been hanging here lately. Would you be so kind as to tell me where Braxton is hiding himself?"

All I can tell you is never let it be said that I can't be diplomatic. I try, I try.

The barkeep bared lengthening fangs. "I'm not telling you shit! Get out of my bar before I call pest control."

I sighed heavily for the twentieth time that night and slapped his face hard enough for him to see stars for the next decade. "Look, calling me names will only get you hurt. Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Empyrion. Hi, howya doin'? Good? Great. Now that we've got that little tidbit out of the way, I'm also the reason why you're the replacement bartender. Ask someone to show you what your predecessor looks like and believe that I'll do the same, or worse, to you, too. Now where is Braxton?"

For a vamp that really hadn't been feeding a lot yet, the guy sure did turn an interesting shade of white after I'd said my name. It's nice when your reputation precedes you— makes for faster results. I knew the guy didn't like it, but I really wasn't giving him much of a choice. Either or, take it or leave it; take your fucking pick. I just wanted to find out what I needed and get the hell outta here already. It was going to take forever to get the smell of the club out of my clothes and I was almost quite certain that the owners weren't gonna opt to foot the bill. Stuck up snobs. The bartender nodded off towards the back of the bar and hurried to get away from me lest I do something unbecoming. Had he continued to balk me, I assure you I would've, but I opted to just give a smart smile and salute and went about my merry little way. What I didn't see, however, was that that little imp was smiling right back at me while my back was turned.

And it wasn't friendly.

* * * *

For all intensive purposes, I suppose I could say that Braxton looked every part the weasel and dressed like it, too. Long face, beady eyes, unibrow… ratty clothes. How this one had lived as long as he had, I'll honestly never know. Though I have been tempted to ask. Arcane curiosity at its best, I guess, but I wasn't _that_ curious. Or that interested.

He stood there leaning against the back wall, arms folded across his chicken chest and trying to act like he was some tough shit. It was pathetic at best, but that was his problem and nothing I wanted to be concerned with. He sneezed in his hands as I neared and wiped them on his gaudy shirt and it was all I could do to not just say fuck it, go the other way and forget that I even set foot in here to begin with. I'd gone this far, might as well finish it.

Damn.

"Braxton," I said, shifting off to a side when he tried to shake my hand. Seriously? "It's been a long time."

He smiled, but it seemed like he was being far too careful about it. More like he was hiding something. "So what brings you here?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, you. I've heard some interesting things and need to know more, and you're the only person that still talks to me. Then again, you're the only person that hasn't forced me to put them in the hospital yet."

Braxton laughed. "Well I'm not one for the hospital scene. I can never seem to pay the bills."

I rolled my eyes at that. "And I wonder why. Anyways, the grapevine's told me that someone's trying to locate some very old and apparently very sacred items to perform a resurrection. You know anything about it?"

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific than that. People do resurrections all the time. Am I supposed to keep track of all of that crap? C'mon, Empy, you're wasting my time."

I threw a wad of bills at him and, as usual, he bungled about when he tried to catch it. He was horrible at catching anything, even a cold. Sometimes you just get lucky, then again, I've not had to worry about being sick for a very long time, so who was I to bitch? "You know I've always paid you for your time. It's a lot more than others have ever gotten, but that's only because you've been so helpful. Have you heard of a kiss that call themselves the Kindred Souls? They're looking to bring a certain someone back to un-life and I just can't let that happen." For a moment, I could've sworn that Braxton had gotten the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look, but it was gone just as fast as it had appeared.

"Maybe we should go outside," he said quietly, eyes scanning to see if anyone was looking in our direction, satisfied that no one had.

With all his faults, he was a surprisingly deft little thing, that Braxton. He popped the little box on the emergency exit and disconnected a couple of wires, tying them off so that a circuit was made and didn't set off the alarm. The little pick-pocket was good. Usually this particular door was already unlocked so that the undead patrons could enjoy the nice night sky while they did whatever it was that they did here, but the weather wasn't up to their comfort zone, thus it was locked. I didn't know vamps even _had_ a comfort zone. Braxton and I stepped outside and he closed the door behind me. As soon as it shut, all the internal noise just died away and I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Something was wrong and I knew I was missing out on something rather important.

"I can't have the vamps hear me talking to you about the Souls," he told me. "They'd kill me for sure."

"Which is why we just went ahead and did it," someone else added.

I bared my lengthening fangs and cracked my knuckles. I'd been set up. Why I hadn't been able to smell anyone else around was beyond me, however, it was quite irrelevant now. Braxton was one of _them_ and I'd been played like a two-bit chump. I hate when that happens!

"Hello, Vinnie," I growled, "how's the eye?"

Vinnie, or Vinsant, scowled and touched the permanent scar I'd given him for trying to jump me a few weeks ago. I'd done it with a silver-edged blade so that even though the wound itself healed, he'd have an eternal scar. It was just a little forget-me-not. I honestly didn't think that he'd still hold a grudge. I guess some people just can't appreciate the finer things in life. Damn.

"It's doing well enough, and that's more than what I can say for you. You're just a nosy little puppy, aren't you? It'd be a shame if that little nose of yours got cut off."

I shrugged. "Too true, but I think the very smell of you is giving more than enough gumption to cut it off myself. What did you do, forget to wipe again?"

His head tilted to one side, face contorted with controlled rage. "You talk too much," and then to Braxton, "bring me his nose. And his heart!"

Braxton smiled, this time showing off his brand new fangs like they were the crowning moment of his life. "You got it, boss!"

Vinsant left and Braxton pulled a gun from his coat pocket. I never would've thought that Braxton would run off with the wrong crowd like this, but I should have the moment that I came here. He'd never had me meet with him here before. Sometimes I was just too slow on the uptake. Even now, I was wondering if he'd been smart enough to come armed with silver bullets. If he hadn't then I was gonna be one very pissed off wolf. The first bullet hit me in the shoulder and sent me spinning. Honestly, this was the first time I'd ever been shot, it burned like a son of a bitch, and Braxton didn't waste any time using the entire mag on me. Yeah, I was gonna feel that in the morning. But Braxton wasn't going to go where most of the other lucky little vamps go when dawn came. Braxton was gonna die. Why, you may ask?

Because he didn't use silver and his aim sucked!

Truth be told, if you pump enough lead through the hearts and brains of damn near any supernatural creature around, we will die just the same. Silver leaves an everlasting mark, though. It heals as slowly as a human would heal from a gunshot, depending on the damage, but you take a good hit to a vital area and you can safely say that you just bagged yourself a nasty-wasty night creature. I really should've died, but like I said, Braxton's aim was horrible. I picked myself up from the ground and gave myself a quick glance over. Shoulder, arm, leg, left forearm, right bicep, and the bastard clipped my ear, too! It was then that I noticed something black and slender rolling off in the gentle breeze and I looked at Braxton with a less than forgiving glare.

"You shot off one of my dreads. What the hell were you aiming at?"

"Your eye?" he said with a confused lilt in his voice. Why was I still talking to him after he'd just shot me a shitload of times? It didn't make sense. Didn't make sense to me, either.

I was still standing where I'd fallen only a moment before, then I was just suddenly in his face, my eyes tinged with the alien glow of my wolf. "You missed," I growled and let half of my collapsible spear do the rest of the talking for me.

The blade pierced through his heart and I shoved it all the way until Braxton found himself transfixed upon it. With a grunt, I hefted him upwards and swung him around once like I was trying to go for a grand slam. He was dust before anything hit the ground. The doors behind me burst open and out poured several vamps that had been in the club. They'd all been waiting for me and I was almost sorry that they bothered waiting. Vinsant was sending newbies after me.

He should've sent better.

* * * *

"If this is all you guys got, you're really wasting my time!"

To give credit where credit was due, Grim's an excellent weapons tactician. Then again, you'd need someone that was rather grim to come up with the stuff necessary to either keep one's self alive or send your enemies to the grave. Grim could do both with practiced ease, and I was gonna make damned sure that I never gave him a reason to consider me an enemy. Ever. I still find it funny that one of the most morose wolves in my Pack is called Grim. It just makes you wanna make some kinda corny joke. But not me, though, honest. I think…

I tossed five grenades out into the throng of incoming vampires and watched the lovely destruction unfold before my eyes. They were no ordinary grenades, thanks to Grim's constant tinkering and tweaking; they were basically water bombs, or in this case holy water bombs that exploded as soon as they hit a hard surface. It took me forever to learn how to carry them without setting them off in any of my pockets. Trust me, I was forced to go around with sopping wet pockets and pants that looked like I'd peed myself. It was truly embarrassing, and I don't want to hear any jokes about it, either!

The bombs went off with a distinct _pfft!_ and boy did those vamps scream! The water went everywhere and it cascaded over all of them. Nothing like having the equivalent to the most caustic acid shredding through your skin and bones to make you feel alive! Maybe I was feeling sadistic. Okay, okay, I was _being_ sadistic, but I wasn't the one that started all this shit in the first place. They have to deal with the monster they've made and the easiest way to get acclimated to having to kill is deal with those that have a death wish already, and I was looking at 'em. The older vamp tended to have something worth fighting for, but the younger ones just didn't have a clue. Or a prayer. I stepped over the massive ocean of bubbling gore and went back inside, bolting the door behind me. If someone was gonna come in from this particular door, I wanted to hear them before they got too close. Besides, Vinsant was probably still in here somewhere and I think I owed him for the bullets. Slashing an eye just wasn't gonna cut it this time. Oddly enough, it was surprisingly quiet in here. Was the DJ taking a break or something?

"Kill the wolf!"

And that made me stop for a moment. "Who, me?"

By now, my limbs were starting to hurt and that told me that not all of the bullets had actually gone through my body. Ow. Nonetheless, I dodged through the mass of what seemed like fifty vamps and made my way to the DJ booth. There was no way in hell I was gonna fight in dead silence. Set the tone and all else will fall into place, that's what I say. Yeah, I know what you're thinkg: what kinda person takes the time to find a theme to fight to. The answer is me, that's who. But I wasn't gonna say, "Hey, could you hold on a second while I find something I can kick your ass to?" No, I just hit play and went with whatever was coming up next. Thankfully, it was even better than what was playing earlier. Rob Zombie. I kinda liked the guy. It'll do.

"Sorry to keep you little leeches on hold for so long, but I had something to take care of," I said just as a few heads peeked over the top of the elevated both. Out came my trusty Krekona and off went their heads.

Movies always make it look like it takes forever for a werewolf to transform; but honestly, it just depends on the wolf and how much they wanna show off. When I leapt from the booth and stood on the dance floor, they weren't looking at the same slender, six-foot four's worth of reddened dark meat but a damn near seven and a half foot tall black werewolf.

_Clink-clink-clink-clink-clink!_

And there went the bullets. My, didn't I feel better all of a sudden. Changing will often do that for ya. The vamps either had to dig them out or just deal. The stronger ones could just make them fall out. Nothing here was that old, or that powerful. More's the pity.


End file.
